Let Me Taste
by eaglemar
Summary: Prompt: Jane/Maura with chocolate and scarves. Pure smut.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all. **

**Prompt: Jane/Maura with chocolate and scarves. Definitive Rizzles.**

…

The scarf is loose enough around her eyes that Maura feels no discomfort—just the soft silkiness brushing across her skin—but tight enough that she can see nothing at all, no matter how hard she tries. She attempts to lower her hands, but they too are loosely bound by scarves to the headboard. They're not tight; no, Jane would never do anything that would hurt her. But they are snug enough just to give her a thrill, to make her—willingly—give over her control to the one she loves the most.

It's torture how much this turns her on, really. Knowing that she's completely at Jane's mercy; knowing that she's bound to be teased and toyed with as long as Jane so chooses until that final, glorious moment when she's allowed to come undone and shatter at the seams only for Jane to put her back together again.

Jane's footsteps echo throughout the house as she climbs the stairs and comes to a stop in the doorway. She inhales a shaky breath as she smells the clean scent of Jane's body wash, and feels her skin prickle from knowing Jane is watching her every move.

She may be rendering her control, but it was never said that she was going to make it easy on Jane to keep her own impulses in check.

Bending her knees and planting her feet against the top of the bed, she spreads her legs wide for Jane to see. She hears the sharp intake of breath, feels her arousal coating her skin and the tops of her inner thighs. If she's already this far gone, there's no way she can handle getting taken much higher without begging to find her release.

Her breath quickens as she feels the bed dip and the fabric of Jane's loose shirt lightly brush against her stomach. She gasps as a warm, almost hot mixture is traced around her nipple with a calloused finger. She sniffs and a slow, languid smile forms on her face.

Chocolate.

Jane's favorite.

This certainly would be a long night.

She feels Jane's mouth latch on—tongue swirling, sucking, licking, and teeth pulling her nipple as Jane pulls back. She arches her back, trying to stay in contact with that pleasurable pain as long as she can. The same happens to her other breast and by now she's panting, thighs rubbing together as she writhes and tries to find a little friction. She knows it's futile, but what else is she to do when Jane's mouth is taking her closer and closer and yet, still manages to leave her so far away from the release she wants? _Needs_?

She sighs in relief—or is it dissatisfaction?—when Jane stops the assault against her aching, erect nipples. The bed dips as Jane crawls away from her and her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Jane, don—oh," she gasps as those same calloused fingers draw lines of chocolate up the insides of both of her legs, stopping mere inches from where she wants them the most.

One of her ankles is gently grasped, leg lifting from the bed as Jane's tongue slowly—oh, _so_ slowly starts to trail up her calf, past the inside of her knee, and straight up her thigh. She softly groans as Jane's warm breath hits her center quickly before it's gone to lick down the other leg.

She reaches down to pull Jane back, but sighs when she realizes they're tied; unmovable. She's near shaking now—clit throbbing, nipples erect and aching, mouth parted in anticipation of a kiss she may or may not get, but hungers for all the same.

Jane leaves her completely once again and she involuntarily yanks against the restraints on her wrists. "Let me taste," she whispers, voice raspy and laced with want. "Please."

Jane softly laughs, climbing over to hover above her. "I guess I can do that," she says, lips brushing Maura's with every word.

She leans the rest of the way up, pressing their lips completely together—tasting faint traces of wine from earlier and the overwhelming flavor of _her_ favorite chocolate, not Jane's. The simple act of always, _always_ thinking of Maura before herself makes Maura moan, leaning forward to take more of it in; more of Jane in.

Her fingers curl into fists to refrain from pulling on the restraints, mouth opening to let Jane's tongue gently slide inside and take control of her that way, too. She gives and gives and gives until she gets brave enough to take—tongue dueling back and teeth biting at Jane's lower lip.

At that, Jane smirks and pulls back. "Not so fast, Doctor Isles. We still have a long way to go."

She all but whimpers. "Will you take your shirt off for me," she says before licking her lips.

"Why?" Is the only response, voice filled with delight.

She tries to jerk her arms forward once more. "I want to feel you against me."

Pause.

"Well, I want to fuck you," Jane says, voice dropping dangerously deep.

Maura has to bite her lip at the flood of arousal that instantly runs through her. Her legs fall open again, a request; a plea. "Why don't you?"

It's a tease; a challenge…and it's one Jane won't fall for so easily. Jane's hands trail up the inside of her thigh, one finger lightly running up her wet, wanting slit until she gasps and lifts her hips to try and keep the contact.

"You already want this to be over?" The smirk is evident in Jane's voice, and Maura almost, _almost_ says yes.

But from past experiences, she knows how good Jane can make this. There's no way she wants this to end before she gets all that she can from it.

She bites her lip, lightly shaking her head. "No. Don't stop."

"That's what I thought."

That damned smirk is still there, but Maura no longer cares when she feels the warm chocolate slowly getting spread against her stomach. The marks are meticulous, even…completely not at random. Over her labored breathing, she focuses on the movements of Jane's fingers and smirks when it's done.

Jane leans forward, lightly biting her nipple once before pulling back. "What's it say?"

The voice is liquid sex in her ear; smoke and honey filling her up, threatening to send her sailing with an electrifying jolt that runs straight to her clit. "Mine," she rasps, licking her lips. "It says mine."

Jane's fingers lightly trail up her sides, stopping just under the swell of her breasts. "Are you? Mine?"

"All of me, Jane," she barely whispers, inhaling sharply as the letters start getting licked and kissed off her skin. "All of me is yours."

There's a light, appreciative nip to her hip before Jane pulls back. She hears rustling and then Jane is hovering above her again, gently pressing down until their bare chests are finally pressed together. She whimpers as Jane's nipples slowly drag across her own, down her stomach, and back up to where they began.

The movement sets a fire inside of her that she can't seem to squelch, and Jane does it over and over again until she's on the edge of tears. "Please touch me, Jane. Please."

It might have been the slight tremble of her voice, or the agony on her face that finally does it, but she doesn't care which as soon as she feels Jane's hips lower to settle between her legs. Jane's pants are still on, but it just serves to give her at least a little friction as she spreads her legs wider.

Jane starts to roll her hips against her; speeding up with every gasp and sigh that tumbles from Maura's lips. That fire is getting stoked, building and burning inside of her until she's right on the cusp of letting go.

But Jane knows. She always knows.

She groans once more when Jane pulls back, leaving her right on the edge of that pleasure she's wanted all night. "Jane…"

It's a beg, a plea; a yearning for a thirst only Jane can quench. It feels like her entire being is tingling and screaming for the pleasure it wants; that _she_ so desperately wants.

She tries to calm her breathing—think of anything, _anything_ but the desire coursing through her. It ultimately fails and she squirms, pulling against the scarves around her arms to get what she needs. "Touch me, damnit," she begs, blindly feeling for Jane with her leg. "I _need_ you to touch me."

And that does it.

Long fingers grip the tops of her thighs, pulling them open. Jane's tongue swipes up her entire length—flat and broad, making sure to hit every spot. She nearly cries in relief. Her hips rise as Jane's mouth latches onto her clit, pulling it inside and gently starts to suck as her tongue starts to flick and tap against it.

She feels the burning, aching desire stoking inside her once again and she welcomes it, full force. She gets driven closer and closer, hips rising and back arching to the wondrous source of pleasure—trying to take every single bit Jane has to give.

"More," she pants, chest heaving. "I need more."

And Jane obeys.

Two fingers swiftly enter her; filling her, thrusting into her and coaxing her closer and closer. They curl inside of her and press against her g-spot over and over until it's all she can think about, all she can focus on.

Two more flicks of Jane's tongue against her clit and one more curl of her fingers, and it's all she can take. She briefly stiffens before crying out—back arching off the bed, arms pulling against the headboards, hips pushing against Jane's mouth to wring out every single ounce of pleasure she can get.

She finally falls back down, welcoming the movements of Jane inside and against her until it's too much; until her hips fight to pull back and away. Jane swipes her tongue through her one more time before pulling back and slowly removing her fingers.

Her arms fall limply against the bed as Jane undoes the scarves, gently rubbing each wrist as soon as they are released. The scarf is slipped off her eyes, but she doesn't dare open them. Not yet.

Jane's fingers lightly run down her cheeks as soft kisses are peppered against her lips. She feels herself getting rolled onto her side and pulled into Jane's chest. She gives a small, languid grin as she pushes her face against the tan, warm neck beside her and long arms wrap around her back to hold her close.

She might have just had almost unrivaled pleasure, but to her…this is always the best part. Wrapped up in everything that's just so_ Jane _is something she'll never let go; something she'll give up everything for.

Jane pulls her closer—fingers stroking the soft skin of her back—and her smile gets a little wider. There's nowhere else Jane would rather be either, and she's more than okay with that.

…..

….

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